Scribe Yearling
by WastelandScribe
Summary: Her love of books and the knowledge they contained had started at an early age. She would clamber through the dark places and scavenge pre-war books for her mother to read to her, and later, to barter for their needs. Her knack for the academic had been her introduction to the Brotherhood of Steel, and granted her a place in the Order of the Quill.
1. The Assignment

**Chapter 1**

It was late in the season, what people used to call Autumn before the Great War. The War's contaminated atmospheric dust kept the temperatures cool most of the time now, and all the seasons blended into one. Outside the crumbling walls of the library, there were occasional echoes of gunfire in the distance. Inside, there was only the creaking of the old floorboards under the burden of the Brotherhood of Steel sentries who stood watch over Scribe Yearling. She sat at the lobby desk as she paged through pre-war books and compiled her notes. The silent room with it's flickering light and shadows cast from the burning barrels, was to be their forward operating base of operations until she had gathered all the intel she could from the ancient tomes.

She knew this place would be a goldmine as soon as they stepped through the front door. Aging books have a distinct musty smell; a tell-take scent of cellulose that told her there were many books still hidden here. It was a scent she liked, she thought of it as the scent of knowledge. From the time of her early youth, she would seek out that scent, as she scampered through the underground tunnels and destroyed buildings above. Reading was something she had learned from her mother one bedtime story at a time.

On this patrol, many of the books she had discovered had been of little technological value, so she spent the majority of her time studying literary works of the past. Some of them had potential political or strategic value, such as the copy of _The Prince_, by Machiavelli or _Sun Tzu's, The Art of War_. Others took the opposite view and warned of despot rulers and what they would do with the uncontrolled power if a society was foolish enough to hand it to them. One such book she read was called _1984_, by George Orwell. She thought it was intriguing that the dreaded room of torture in the book, bore the same number as the vault of the Lone Wanderer. He was now one of her confidants, having agreed to bring in pre-war books for her to catalog. Thanks to his contributions, she now had enough volumes of books to keep her busily extrapolating information for months.

He had also told her some interesting tales of his travels. Two of the locations he mentioned had struck her memory, a hamlet called Canterbury and a building named Dunwhich. She later checked her catalog of entries and found books referring to both. _The Canterbury Tales_, By Chaucer and _The Dunwich Horror_ by H.P. Lovecraft. She went on to check another name he had mentioned, Arefu. She found a reference to a pre-war town in Romania. That story centered around the vampire, Dracula, in a book of the same name, written by Bram Stoker. None had been direct correlations, but she made a note of it.

This evening's selection was titled, _Ender's Game_, by Orson Scott Card. It like so many of man's dark imaginings was based on man's fear of the unknown; the dark things of the night. In this book, it took the form of Aliens that looked like giant ants. She smiled, so much fear of monsters that didn't exist, when the real danger was themselves. The book did address an interesting dilemma though. One of restraint and ethics. How far do you take revenge? When can you say - 'enough'?

Scribe Yearling looked at the swirled signature on the interior plate of the book. The authors signature was almost art. She closed the book and felt the soft, tattered leather of the book cover and looked at the edges of the pages. There were only traces of the gold leaf edges that had once shown brightly. It was a collectable edition, someone had treasured this.

**A/N:** Some references were gathered from the list of "_Fallout 3 Cultural References_" from the _Falloutwikia _site, except _Ender's Game, _which I felt might be referred to by the ants of Shalebridge since you are offered the option to help them. That leather-bound, signed copy of _Ender's Game_, could possibly be from my collection. I just won an auction for it on EBay.


	2. Hidden Agenda

**Chapter 2**

"_Scribe Yearling_." Tanya thought to herself. Still seemed strange after all the training and indoctrination, that she still felt like Tanya the individual, not Yearling, the soldier. That hadn't gone unnoticed by her Commanders. She was proud to be part of the Brotherhood to be sure, and she believed in her job; she just didn't feel the same priorities the Command staff held for her duties.

They were always hot and heavy on pressing the arms race between the Brotherhood and the Enclave. Everything took a backseat to technological gain in the effort to crush their biggest threat. So they reprimanded her at first for using unit resources to recover literary works, when they expected - demanded, solid intel and asset recovery of lost technology. She had argued the point, but the point was, they didn't want an argument. When the reprimands didn't have the intended corrective effect, they transferred her out of the archives.

So here she was, a scout at an outpost, relegated to routing Raiders and digging through the refuse of an archeological site in hopes of finding diagrams, maps, electrical project guides to send to the boys back at R&D. A smile spread across her face. "_Some punishment," _This was exactly what she wanted, now she had her own Army to finally remove the Raiders that had kept her out when she was a kid. Better yet, with the Lone Wanderer bringing her exactly what Command wanted, she didn't even have to waste time looking for it. She could spend every minute reclaiming true treasure, the intellectual pursuits of the ages. Philosophy, Art, Psychology, Political method, Socioeconomic planning, and Theology. These were the things that created a society, held it together, stronger than steel, stronger than cement. They create something that can't be shot at, bombed, or swept away. It creates ideas and hope. It turns people into an indestructible force that can't be stopped.

One day she would find the right person to share this with. Someone with vision, compassion, and her shared intolerance for greed and abuse of power. Those people were hard to find in the Wastes, most just wanted enough to eat and drink today, and didn't care how they got it. Others couldn't see beyond tomorrow. Until there was hope, there would never be anything beyond tomorrow.

Good people were out there though, she knew they were, because her mother had been one. As a little girl she would sit in her mothers arms and listen to her read books and tell her stories of how things could be. She would tell tales handed down to her through oral tradition or those she had read in books. Tanya would look at the pages, her hair still tangled, her face still smeared with dirt from dragging books out of the crumbled ruins of the wastes. She would look up at her mom and see the hope in her eyes, as she told the stories of princesses and magic castles of shining granite and ivory.

It wasn't until years later that Tanya realized the pages of the books were empty. They contained only browned, burnt, and curled pages, devoid of words. But the dreams and hopes were there. They were there in her mothers eyes as she wished for a happier life for her little girl and told wonderful stories as she flipped the empty pages of the destroyed books. Tanya didn't forget those lessons and the love and care her mother had given her. Tanya was determined to bring that world to life, to bring it back; if for no one else, then for her mother.


	3. The Keepsake

**Chapter 3**

Scribe Yearling could identify with Ender's Game. How the protagonist was always alone and had to fight for himself. He fought to win, to stop them from coming back. How strange, she thought, that she would come to this conclusion long before she had read that book.

She could still remember the times with her Mummy and Daddy when she was little. She was too little to know how bad things were. It was all she had ever known. She thought everyone had always lived like this, day-to-day, hand-to-mouth, always scaving, always hungry. But she felt cared for, protected, and loved. That was all a little girl needed.

There had been many good times, good memories. Riding on her Daddy's shoulders to the market to trade and barter for items. He had taught her how to scavenge and get a fare price in caps for their finds. On one of their trips, he noticed a flower growing near some debris. He walked over and sat her down next to it.

"It's called a flower," he said. "isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes, it's yellow, beautiful."

"Touch these parts," he said. Pointing at its pedals. "See how soft and delicate they are?"

"It's like Fairy wings. From the book Mummy reads." she said, looking up at him for his opinion.

"Yes, that's right." he said, and stopped to consider the new viewpoint. "It is like Fairy wings."

"My Grand Mummy used to tell me that flowers used to grow everywhere in big fields. The stores would sell them in all different colors and scents. This is the first one I've seen in a long time. It must be very special and rare to grow here, all by itself."

Tanya sat, squatting on her heels, as only a child can and squinted up at her Daddy in the bright daylight. She understood it was rare and beautiful, but asked, "Can we take it to Mummy?"

He had smiled at her in a way that said, 'I love you.'

Then he took her hand, and together they looked until they found an empty can. They put some dirt in it and carefully transferred the flower to the can. They even put a little of their purified water on it.

Those had been good days. But they didn't last. Her Daddy had to look further and further away in the ruined buildings and it got dangerous. She could feel the tension and see the worry in her Mummy's eyes. After a while he stopped taking her. One day, he didn't come back. Tanya saw some of his friends talking to her Mummy, and then her Mummy hid her hands in her face and cried. Then she held Tanya and rocked her in her arms.

Tanya used to cry and ask her Mummy if Daddy was coming home tomorrow. Always the answer was a sad "no." She had once cried and told her Mummy, "I can't remember what Daddy looks like any more." Her mother just held her and kissed her forehead they way her Daddy used to. Eventually, Tanya didn't ask anymore.

She started working harder to find things to sell. She remembered all the tricks her Daddy had shown her and she was pretty good. It wasn't as much or as good as her Daddy used to bring home, but it was enough.

Two years later a new man started calling on her Mummy. He was nice at first, but soon, he started taking their things to trade for whiskey. He got violent when he would drink and hit her Mummy. He frightened Tanya, and would look at her strangely when he was drunk. Sometimes she would close her eyes and imagine her Daddy coming back and chasing him away. Other times, she would take her books to the top of a destroyed building to read her stories far away from Jerry.

He used to hurt her Mummy quietly behind their closed door, but one day he got mad and abused her in front of the villagers. They all surrounded them and made it clear they weren't going to tolerate it. When they got home Jerry blamed her Mummy and slapped her around. Then he went back to the bar for more whiskey. Her Mummy sobbed quietly behind her door.

Tanya cried too. She knew if her Daddy was here, he would never have let anyone hurt them. She sniffled and thought, 'Someday Jerry's going to get what he deserves.'

Then she dried her tears and thought of her Mummy crying in the next room.

"That day is today." Tanya said. She looked around her room and picked up a sock and quietly stepped out into the night. She ran on the front of her feet in the direction of the bar, and soon saw Jerry staggering towards the entrance. She stepped into the shadows across the street and waited in the darkness.

It didn't take long. There was a lot of yelling and the sound of breaking wood and glass. Then two guys dragged Jerry out of the bar and threw him into the alley. Bottles clinked away and tin cans clattered on the broken pavement as they dumped him, unconscious, amidst the garbage. Then they headed back to the bar, laughing as the door closed behind them. Some hearty cheers broke out, and she knew they were done. Tanya stepped forward, her face emerging from the darkness. She walked across the street to the alley and looked down at the sorry excuse of a man. She said, "Tonight, my Dad's here." She bent down and picked up a stone and dropped it into the sock, then another. Her eyes burned with intensity as she stared at him, her mouth tightened and she gritted her teeth. In the shadows of the alley, a small, dark figure raised something into the air. Then swung it down, over and over. It impacted with a dull thud and the sound of breaking rib bones.

No one knew who beat up Jerry that night, but they did a real job on him. Rumor was the villagers were fed up with him. It could have been anyone; no one admitted it, but he never looked the villagers in the eye after that, and he never hit her Mom again. After her Mom got him back on his feet, Jerry quietly disappeared.

Tanya could see the worry in her Mom's eyes again, but Tanya knew her Mom didn't have to worry about them anymore; she was old enough to help her family now.

"We're going to be okay now Mom." she said, as she brushed the hair away from her Mom's face and kissed her forehead.

* * *

Scribe Yearling's attention focused on her notes again. She had stopped writing. She glanced over at the Sentries but they hadn't seemed to notice. She reached down and pulled a book from her backpack. It was one book she took with her everywhere. It was her favorite book and she had saved it from when she was little. It was full of wonderful stories. She opened it and felt the worn, brown, and curled pages. She turned the pages, one after another, the words now just illegible smears and stains. It was the one her mother used to pretend to read to her.


	4. Getting to Know You

**Chapter 4**

"If you like destroyed books," said Sentry Bryant. "I think we're in the right place."

Tanya looked over to the Sentry in the corner and closed the book. "Not all books are written in the same language. It doesn't make them worthless, you just need the right person to tell you what is in them. You just have to keep an open mind."

"It's not my place to question Command." said Bryant. "If they say this mission is important, then I'm fine with that. I just don't see what they hope to find in a ruined library."

Tanya turned her gaze at Sentry Parker, but he remained at his post, in the opposite corner, and ignored them.

"These are works of literature." she said. "They are unlike anything in the professional military reading textbooks. These are condensed lessons from great minds throughout the ages, long before the Great War."

Bryant removed his helmet. "I'll bite. What great lessons were omitted from the Brotherhood texts, that we might find here?"

Tanya sorted through a few of the pre-war books in front of her and held out one to Bryant. "This one is called 'The Lord of the Flies'. It is a lesson about how instinct can overrule society and order and replace it with chaos and brutality. It reflects what we become when we turn our back on intellect and knowledge. If we are to restore order and protect the masses, surely we should be aware of the risks and potential pitfalls. Command talks about securing the future, but they don't talk about what to do once the fighting ends."

"I'm pretty sure they're working on it." said Bryant. "So, I suppose you were able to find some use from these stories?"

"Not at first. Initially they were just stories. But I found they made me believe in something bigger than myself. They made me believe any of us could make a difference. Even me."

"So you read this book when you were little, I suppose."

"No, my mother read it to me. It was one of the first ones I found scaving in the underground tunnels among the ghouls."

"Now we're getting somewhere. that sounds like a story I could stand to hear."

"Well, pull up a chair," Tanya said with a smile. "but don't get all scared and tell me you need me to take you to the pottie later."

"Oh, I think I'll manage."

Tanya glanced again at Sentry Parker, but he stood stoically at his post, ignoring the off-mission discussion.

"Well...I must have been about 8 years old. I had taken it upon myself to scavenge to keep my Mother and myself from starving. I had to go further away from our village and look in places where adult scavengers couldn't go or fit into. I would take my finds to the market and stand in line. There were always a lot of people standing there hoping to get some caps. There was a boy in line a couple places in front of me. He glanced back at me once and I noticed his eyes were beautiful. His hair blew across his forehead in the afternoon wind, and the sunlight twinkled in his eyes."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Did you say ghoul or girlfriend?"

"Do you want to hear this or not?"

"Yeah, yeah; just save the "twinkling-eye" stuff for ghouls in the dark."

Tanya noticed Sentry Parker walked to the door, checked it, and then repositioned facing the door with his assault rifle. She realized he backed up just close enough to listen to her story too. She smiled and continued.

"When he got to the front of the line, I could tell the vendor was excited about what the boy had found. He told the boy to bring him more and I heard a lot of caps clatter into his pouch."

"I glanced at him as he walked past and he looked at me out of the corner of his eye and smiled. I looked down at my bag of items until he passed. Then I glanced back but he was already working his way past the line of people behind me. Then it was my turn. The vendor curled his lip and picked through the bottles and destroyed books I brought."

"I can give you 8 caps for all of it."

"It's worth 12."

"I'm doing you a favor Tanya, you need to find something better, but I'll give you 9 caps." He poured them into my hand and I noticed the Pre-war books the boy had left.

"Have a look at these." said the next person, as he stepped around me to trade.

It had taken me the whole previous day to scavenge all those things. I thought about the boy and wondered where he had gotten the good books from.

I stepped through the crowd but the boy had disappeared among people milling around the other stalls. I looked back and forth standing on my toes, but he was gone. I stopped and thought. I didn't remember seeing him before, so I thought he probably wasn't headed further into the village. I turned and headed off, through the destroyed buildings leading out of the village.

The noise of the market faded behind me. I passed a few people here and there, but I was getting further and further off the main road and pretty soon I was on deserted streets. I glanced each way at the corners of buildings. I had been through this area before, but it was pretty picked over. I was beginning to think I chose the wrong direction, when I saw him rounding a corner a few streets over, and I started following him. I stayed just far enough behind that he didn't see me, but I could keep up without his noticing me. He kept zigzagging through the destroyed city streets. The buildings were pretty tall and it was cooler there out of the sunshine. The whole place stayed stale and musty, smelling of damp concrete.

I was having to divide my attention between him and the surroundings, keeping an eye out for trouble. He kept heading further into the city, and then I realized I'd lost him. I rounded a corner and he wasn't there any more. I hurried to the next corner and still couldn't see him. I stopped and listened but it was quiet. There was the sound of falling plaster or loose material flapping inside the destroyed buildings, but I couldn't hear anyone. I did a circuit around a couple streets and ended up back where I last saw him.

I looked around at the buildings. A few had faded signs on them that told me it was a shopping plaza. Clothes, cafe's, big stores that used to have things in them years ago. Now they were just empty piles of bricks inside of collapsed shells that towered over me. I thought I had better head back before it got any later and try to find him another day. When I turned, something caught my eye. It was a metal sign on the debris pile inside the big department store. I stood looking at it and wondered how it had fallen inside the building. I glanced around one last time, and then I walked inside the entrance and listened, but I still didn't hear anything and I hadn't seen graffiti on the buildings so I didn't think there were any raiders here. There didn't seem to be any dust near the doorway but it was on everything else. I didn't think the wind could do that. I stepped up to the sign. It had bricks and junk scattered across it, but it didn't look random. I got down on my knees and looked under the edge of it and instead of bricks I saw darkness. A cinder block at the front edge of the sign didn't have any dust on it. I picked it up and the sign pivoted on the debris pile. I looked inside and saw a hole near the back wall and a clean path between the dusty bricks. I smiled, "Clever boy."

I set the cinder block back down and held the sign up, as I crawled under it. I crawled forward and let go; it creaked shut behind me.


	5. Into the Darkness

**Chapter 5**

The hole in the wall led into the darkness. I crawled forward feeling my way between the large chunks of fallen cement that made up the tunnel. As my eyes started to adjust, I could see a faint light ahead and I could hear the wind blowing. The tunnel opened into an elevator shaft. I looked up and saw the sky through the collapsed roof. Below me was the collapsed remains of the roof, cables, and rusted iron beams. I could see another opening in the shaft at the edge of the rubble pile. There was a stack of cinder blocks piled below and I dropped onto them. I looked into the next tunnel. The debris only partially blocked a hallway. I crawled down into it and could see more light at the end. I quietly walked down the hall and peeked into office doors along the way. Each was filled with items stacked on office desks, shelves, and on the floor. One room had jewelry, another had canned food, and one had clothes, hats, shoes, and bags. I continued down the hall and it split left and right. To the right was a battery operated lamp, and beyond it a lit room behind a closed door. I knew it must be where the boy was, but I didn't know if he was alone, or if he would be angry about my being there.

I didn't want to steal anything he had stockpiled, but I knew there was probably more undiscovered things down the hallway to the left. I thought it wouldn't really be stealing if he hadn't found it yet. I crept down the hall, and found another debris pile from the collapsed levels above. It extended from the floor to the ceiling. There was an opening under a wooden table that had cement slabs and chunks of debris on it. I laid flat and crawled on my elbows into the tunnel. It was a tight fit even for me. It was dark and stale. I could feel the jagged edges of the cement scratching at my skin. In some places, the tunnel was so tight I could feel the tons of concrete rubbing on my back. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead and it got hard to breath. My clothes kept catching on the metal bars sticking out of the broken concrete. I wasn't sure if I could back up; I had to keep moving forward.

The tunnel opened up into a large dark room. I stood up and looked around in the darkness. There was a little bit of light filtering through what used to be a series of basement windows. Now they had chuncks of concrete sticking in from the street outside where part of the building had collapsed, but it was enough to see in the room. I figured it must be the utility and storage sections of the department store basement. The whole area had rows of scaffolding shelves, with boxes of things. The boxes were peeling and warped, but they looked dry. The area I was in had a chain link fence around it and a gate, which was open. I walked around looking at the rows of boxes. Some of them had been opened, many looked like they had been moved around. I realized this was where the boy had been finding everything. It was a treasure trove. This is where the department store had kept all its new items, until the bombs fell and destroyed the upper levels. All those layers of crumbled concrete had made this place like a bunker and the collapses had entombed all these rare antiquities down here awaiting the day that an explorer would find it. There was enough down here to make several people rich. I saw an open box on a bottom shelf. It appeared to have books in it. I knelt down and slid the box out a little.

A sound brought me back to reality. The darkness and silence seemed to amplify the small noise. It was a soft sound, the sound of grit underfoot. She looked past the box and could see something in the darkness, beyond the chain link fence. It was in shadow and she couldn't quite make it out. I stood up and looked through an empty spot on the shelf, and found myself staring into the wide eyes of a ghoul. For a moment everything stopped. It seemed to stare at me uncomprehending, then it realized I wasn't a ghoul and it slammed its face into the chain link fence trying to get at me as it screamed.

I jumped back, and the face disappeared, leaving strands of flesh and hair hanging from the wire fence. I heard the running feet slapping on the cold concrete floor as it ran through the isles of shelves. I turned and looked at the open gate and my blood ran cold. I dove for the tunnel, with the sounds of the feet getting louder behind me.

I hit the ground and scrambled into the small tunnel, my mind racing. "Could it fit inside too?" It was big, but it was emaciated. I knew it would fit. I scrambled back into the darkness, my breath stirring the dust all around me. I slammed my head into the edge of some concrete and white pain shot through my head. I was fully inside the tunnel and kept elbowing my way forward as warmth spread down my face and the metallic taste of blood ran over my lips. I could hear a scuffling noise behind me...it was coming.

I muffled a cry as my arms and legs pumped like pistons only to drive me forward inches at a time. Then everything stopped as a steel grip locked my foot in place. I grabbed at the cement debris around me, as it started dragging me backwards towards the room, towards the filthy, jagged fingernails and the cracked, yellow teeth.

My mind raced through desperate ideas to free myself. I frantically clawed at everything around me, but each time my hands slipped off dusty shapes, and I slid backwards. I didn't have room to kick, and I couldn't lodge myself in the tunnel. I started panicking and wished my foot would just tear away, and let me escape. I heard my own scream muffled and echoed back into my ears by the tiny space.

Then my leg was free and everything went quiet in the tunnel. My eyes were wide in the dark, my nostrils flared trying to drag more air into my lungs. I could feel my hair puffing away from my face with each breath. I listened not daring to move, then I heard dragging sounds. I kicked away into the tunnel, regaining lost ground. I could hear the scrambling behind me again as I clawed my way forward. My lungs and muscles burned from the exertion. I thought of the light so far ahead; I thought of my mother, then I felt the grip on my foot again.

I screamed, but this time, there was no stopping it. I was dragged backwards again. My hand caught something loose and my hand locked around it; it was a fist-sized piece of concrete. I felt my legs pulled out of the tunnel, and I instinctively turned over onto my back to face the attack. I saw the dark figure cast my leg aside and lunge for my throat. I filled my lungs with air for a last scream, and swung the weapon in my hand, but I missed, my forearm bouncing off a shoulder, as a hand clamped over my mouth.

"Shhhhhh!" a voice whispered into my ear. "They'll hear you." It was the boy.

I stared wide-eyed into the face over me, my breath still coming in frantic bursts. I could see him now urging me to be calm. My head was still locked down by the boy but I could smell something awful and rotting. I turned my eyes to the side and saw the ghoul's dead eyes staring back at me with a knife sticking out of its head. I whimpered but the boy tightened his grip on my mouth.

"Shhh, shhh, shhh!" he whispered and nodded his head. "You're okay now, I have you. I won't let them take you. Do you understand?"

I tried to control my breathing and nodded in unison with him, trying not to think of the monster lying next to me.

"I'm going to take my hand away." he said. "We are going to lock the gate then go back to my place. It's safe there, but we need to lock the gate first."

I exhaled a sigh and quickly nodded. The boy let go slowly got to his knees, listening for more running feet, but it was quiet again. He stepped over to the ghoul and grasped the handle of the knife as he stepped on its head. He paused and looked at me. I looked away and a moment later I heard metal sliding past bone and a small sucking sound.

I looked back, and the boy was sheathing the knife. He grabbed the ghoul by the shoulders and nodded towards its feet as he looked at me.

I sat up and looked at the claw-like feet sticking out of the filthy, ragged pants, then back at the boy. I swallowed hard, resisting the urge to gag and crawled closer to follow his directions. Together we lifted the body and moved it outside the gate and set it back down. We returned to the cage and slowly closed the gate. The boy secured it with a paddle lock.

The boy shook his head to indicate 'good' and looked at me. I staring at him with blood running down my forehead and tears in my eyes. I could feel myself begin to shake. The boy put his hand on my shoulder and I rushed under his arm, hugged him, burying my face in his shirt.

The boy held me there, listening to my quiet sobs as his shirt muffled them.

"My name is Liam." he whispered, as he hugged me in the darkness.


End file.
